Page 65 of Wild Blades

Until there’s nothing but a whooshing sound in my ears and it grows louder and louder… and Gretchen appears. She’s smiling, holding out her hand for me to take. “I've got you, Wade. Take my hand.” But when I reach for her, my hand is covered in a greasy substance and I can’t grab onto her… she’s floating away and I’m roaring at her to grab hold of me, but my lungs are pierced with pain and she can’t hear me…

Catapulting upward, I desperately try to control my breathing as I wake with a start.

Looking around, I realize I’m okay. I’m in my hotel suite and I’m fine. I fall backward onto the mattress again and punch the comforter, angry at the dream for making me feel completely out of control.

My heart batters against my rib cage as I run my hands down my face. I’m covered in sweat and feel slightly dizzy, which I do every time this happens.

“Fuck.” It’s the same recurring dream I’ve been having for years that somehow feels real.

And it never changes. Two men. A faceless man with a baby and one with blue eyes that visited my mom at the house when I was younger. My mom crying. Fans booing me. Falling through the ice. A gold hockey pin. Gretchen.

And always the same words from one man. You’re not my son.

Then the other.It’s me, Wade.

I wish I knew what all of it meant.

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but part of me thinks it’s a memory more than a dream. The white house in the dream feels real and I know I’ve seen it somewhere before, walked through it. It feels familiar. If only I could remember.

I make a mental note to tell Thomas about it. Maybe he can suggest some type of therapy to help me regain my memory or stop me from having the unsettling dream.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of someone knocking on my hotel suite door sounds a lot like my heart that continues to bang uncontrollably in my rib cage.

I roll my head to the side, pick up my phone off the nightstand, and check my screen with bleary eyes that are still a little fuzzy from sleep. Eight in the morning. I’m not expectinganyone, and I’m surprised how late I’ve slept today. I normally would have done a full hour’s training by now to sweat out the alcohol I would have regretted consuming from the night before. However, having slept on the uncomfortable sofa on Friday night because Kali slept in my bed, I only got a few hours of sleep, and Saturday night, I tossed and turned all night, thinking about what we did at the axe throwing place.

A combination of barely any sleep for two nights and a game last night, which we won, I’ve slept like a log. I like feeling like I haven’t been hit by a ton of bricks though. One of the many benefits of giving up liquor.

Thump, thump, thump.

Louder now, there’s another knock at my door.

I leap out of bed and rush to open it. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Maybe Ezra or Myles are coming to say goodbye before they leave, but we spoke after the game last night and I’m not expecting them.

I pull open the door. “Morning, motherfuc––” My words die in my throat. “Oh, shit.” I’m stark bollock naked, at eight o’clock on a Monday morning in front of Kali fucking Roth. The most beautiful woman in the world to have ever graced a catwalk, and the woman I made come on Saturday night who I can’t stop thinking about.

And now I’m naked in front of her. I’m kicking myself for not checking the peephole.

There’s a moment where nothing happens between us. As if in slow motion, her eyes drop to my cock. She licks her lips, then flicks her gaze back up again, and it takes me a moment to engage my brain as time goes back to normal.

I quickly cover my cock and balls with both hands and hold the swing door open with my foot. “Shit, I thought you were someone else.”

“Expecting company?” Her mouth pulls to the side, but she sounds disappointed.

“Yes. Fuck. No. No.” I’m stuttering. “I thought it was either Ezra or Myles coming to say goodbye. They both leave today.” I don’t want her to think I’m inviting girls here.

Why not? Who the hell knows?

At this point, I’m balancing on a knife edge; do what’s right, ignore my feelings, keep her and her expertise on my team, or do I ask Marcus to hire someone else for me, to save my sanity, or do what my heart, and cock, really want, which is her?Would Marcus fire her if we did? Does her contract state she can’t have a sexual relationship with players? Fuck, why haven’t I asked this before?

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Why are you still naked?”

“Shit.”Good point.“I’ll…” I point with my head in the direction of the bedroom and run to my room.

I feel the heat of her gaze on my back, so I smile over my shoulder to confirm if she’s checking me out, and right enough, she is. Realizing I’m watching her, she inhales a sharp gasp, muttering something under her breath as she looks away and busies herself as the swing door closes automatically behind her as she steps fully into my suite.

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